


Antichrist (Dramione)

by olyviahrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, F/M, OOC, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olyviahrose/pseuds/olyviahrose
Summary: In which Draco is the bringer of the end times, and Hermione is the angel prophesied to save the world. Set during the eighth year at Hogwarts in a world where Voldemort doesn’t exist. ***OOC Warning***





	Antichrist (Dramione)

Ominous clouds loomed overhead as students piled into the towering castle. Returning brought a heavy sense of nostalgia to seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger. No matter how many times she stepped through the doors of Hogwarts, she couldn’t get over the awe that consistently struck her upon arriving. Beautiful, towering ceilings, intriguing classes, and massive corridors filled with more mysteries than she could ever hope to discover. A small pang tore at her heart as she climbed the worn stone steps. This would be her last year returning. How eight years had gone by so quickly was beyond even her knowledge. The inevitable homesickness she was bound to feel after leaving was all the more motivation to make this year one to remember.  
“Perhaps, I can return and teach a class myself in the future,” Hermione muttered to herself quietly--not that anyone around her would have noticed had she said it louder. The entrance hall was buzzing with excitement as the students hastily shoved in various directions, eager to get to their destinations. A crowd of third years darted in front of her, nearly knocking her into those behind her. She stumbled backward in an effort to dodge the stampede.  
An exasperated hiss of annoyance came from just behind Hermione, and she turned to see a tall, icy blond boy adjusting his robes impatiently. Once adjusted, the boy cast her a piercing glare, his grey eyes seemingly reading her mind as he stared.  
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to! I was just trying to move out of the--” Hermione was promptly cut off with an impatient growl on the boy’s part. Before she could apologize further, he had turned in the opposite direction and stormed away.  
“Okay then,” she began, smoothing out the pleats of her uniform skirt in an attempt to regain her composure. “Nevermind I suppose.” She glanced briefly around herself for an opening in the crowd and took the first one available to dart towards the stairs. There were still a few moments until the sorting ceremony, and while she couldn't get out of attending--and really didn't want to get out of it, to begin with--she did need a few moments alone to sort herself out.  
The second-floor girls' lavatory was rarely used, however, Hermione had come to enjoy the silence of it over the years. She much preferred it over the loud chatter and gossiping of those who usually occupied the ladies rooms. She wasn't exactly what one would call a social snitch--she couldn't explain why really, she just preferred to be alone. There were a few girls she worked with when group projects came along--Luna Lovegood was typically her first choice whenever possible--however as group projects were few and far between in the recent years, she had steadily fallen further and further away from the company of others, and into her own.  
This was the main reason she was not head girl this year. She had received a letter only days prior to arriving at Hogwarts telling her that she had been selected. “...for outstanding grades, attendance, participation, and wisdom,” the letter had read. She promptly returned a letter to decline the position. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were less than pleased about the decision. Hermione went to bed with welts on her back and bruises on her face that night. The Grangers weren’t wizards, but they prided themselves on the fact that their daughter was one of the most prestigious witches of her age. This was not the first time Hermione had been beat--whether she had done well or not.  
However, Hermione held-fast to the decision that without good social skills, she could in no way be a good leader for the younger generations, and refused to send another letter to revoke her previous denial--and as the Grangers were neither a witch or wizard themselves, they had no way to give input or contact the school regarding her decision. So they beat her--and when that didn’t change her mind, they beat her again.  
Hermione stood before one of the mirrors in the second-floor girls' lavatory, her fingers touching the welts softly as she craned her neck to peer over her shoulder and gaze at the marks on her reflections. They didn’t hurt too bad unless she lied on her back at night, but she rarely did so anyway so it was hard to even remember they were there unless she was looking at them. The bruises on her jawline and the black eye were harder to forget, but a simple enchantment had hidden them from her classmates, and they didn't hurt unless she touched them, so again, they hardly put a damper on her school life.  
Dropping the hem of her blouse, Hermione turned from the mirror and left the bathroom. The sorting ceremony would be beginning shortly, and she didn’t want to miss it. She loved seeing the excitement of students as they were placed in their respective houses.  
It was quite interesting to her that she had been sorted into Gryffindor. She felt as if she were the least brave witch in the school. However, the sorting hat had never made a mistake, and she wasn’t exactly proud of being the first she knew of to doubt it. Perhaps she just hadn’t had a reason to be brave yet.


End file.
